Timing, Trust and Open Doors
by JamiW
Summary: NOT part of my series...This story begins during the episode "Endgame" and does contain mild spoilers and a couple of direct quotes. After the first chapter, it mostly wanders down its own path.  Pre-BA
1. Chapter 1

**Alex POV**

* * *

"Then you're going to have to trust me, Eames."

That's what he said to me.

As though that weren't precisely what I'd been doing for the past five years.

Trusting his unpopular opinions and his obscure theories.

Trusting _him_.

And was it because I was in love with him?

Maybe. I'll admit it to myself even if not to him.

I'd loved him beyond all reason for the better part of the past three years.

So yes, I trusted him.

But I didn't like it.

I didn't like that he suddenly felt the need to hide from me, to go it alone. Whatever this truth was that he was seeking…we should be uncovering it together.

So yeah, it hurt that he left me behind.

It hurt more than just a little.

But I pushed aside my feelings of hurt and continued to work the case.

_This case_.

My stomach turned just thinking about it.

We'd been digging through the life and times of Mark Ford Brady for more than a week in an effort to find a conclusion for so many women whose fates were unknown. I mean, they were _known_. But yet the families had never received proper closure. They'd never been able to offer a proper burial because the bodies had remained hidden.

It was the least we could do.

But this case couldn't have come at a worse time.

Bobby was going through a rough time with his mother. She'd finally chosen to end treatment and her days were numbered just as surely as those of Brady.

A few days ago, he'd told me shyly that his mom wanted to meet me. Even if I weren't head over heels in love with him, it would've been nearly impossible to resist his boyish smile.

So I went, at the first possible opportunity.

And what did she do when Bobby introduced me? She sent him on an errand.

"Please, Bobby, I need that book. I left it in the sun room, I know I did. Please go get it."

"But Ma…"

"Be a good boy, will you?"

So he'd left, but not before casting me an apologetic glance. At first I wasn't sure what he was so worried about.

But as soon as the door closed behind him, she settled her piercing gaze onto mine.

"I thought you'd be taller," she said as if she had something foul-tasting in her mouth.

"So did I," I replied. I sat down in the chair next to the bed. "But for some reason, I quit growing."

"Oh, a smart one, are you? Is that why you like my Bobby? You know, he was always too smart for his other girlfriends."

I ignored the flash of jealousy that went through me at the mention of other girlfriends.

Of _course_ he'd had other girlfriends. The man was in his forties.

"I'm not his girlfriend, Mrs. Goren," I corrected. "I'm his partner."

"So he says," she replied with a dismissive wave. "But you're not married."

"No."

"And you spend all of your time together."

"Well, yes."

"So what are you waiting for? You think he's not good enough for you?"

"No, it's not that," I said quickly.

"So what, then? You think you have all the time in the world? You're not a young lady, you know."

I couldn't stop the chuckle at her insistence and her blunt observation, but I wasn't offended. I could appreciate her point.

_What _are_ you waiting for, Alex?_

Bobby burst into the room, a slight sheen of sweat covering his brow. He must've sprinted across the hospital to the sun room, but to his credit, he held the coveted book in his hand.

"Everything okay, Ma?" he asked her as he looked uncertainly back and forth between his mother and me.

"Okay? Why wouldn't it be? You think I can't handle being alone with your partner for five minutes?"

But as she chastised him, she gave me a wink.

And I had the sudden terrifying, exhilarating, horrifying revelation that she _knew_. She knew my secret.

And maybe I was reading way too much into it, but I almost got the feeling that she approved.

"I'll give you two some time alone," I offered as I got up from the chair. "It was lovely meeting you, Mrs. Goren."

But she'd already mentally dismissed me and my fantasy of having made some sort of connection with her was shattered.

Had I completely imagined her pointed look?

Her wink?

"Bobby, where's Frank?" I heard her ask as I slipped out of the door.

And at her words, my heart broke for Bobby.

His mother always asked for Frank even though Bobby was the one who took care of her. The one who was going broke paying her medical bills. The one who had put his job on the line just to try to make her happy.

And yet she wanted Frank.

I'd waited in the sitting room for an hour before he finally came out, looking drawn and tired.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately.

"For what?" I asked as I fell into step beside him.

"This. Her. Everything."

"Hey," I said as I stopped in the hall. I touched him on the arm to get him to look at me. I didn't often touch him, but when I did, I felt that heat run through me as though he were on fire.

And as his weary eyes met mine, I struggled to find the right words to say. I wasn't sure what they were, or if they even existed.

So instead, I relied upon our usual form of communication.

I just held his gaze and gave him a slight nod while unspoken thoughts rolled through my brain.

_I'm sorry this is so hard for you._

_I wish I'd come sooner._

_I love you_.

That last forbidden thought forced me to break contact, both visual and physical, and together we continued down the hall.

"Was she…okay with you?" he asked me hesitantly once we were finally in the car.

"She wanted to know why I'm so short," I said, hoping to pull a smile from him.

I did.

We went back to work, and made more progress on the case.

The next day, I went with him to visit his mother again.

After having seen first hand how he looked upon leaving her room, I didn't want him to do it alone. Not if I could help it, anyway.

And when I suggested that I go with him, he didn't argue.

Or at least, not much.

"Eames, you don't have to."

"I didn't think that I did."

"It's just…she's just…" he began, and then he trailed off and expelled a heavy sigh. "She has the wrong idea."

"About us?" I asked, making sure to keep the amusement off of my face. "I know. It's okay."

"It's okay?" he asked, looking at me in confusion.

"Unless it bothers you…"

"No," he said quickly. "No, it doesn't bother me."

Then he fell into silence as I drove us to the hospital.

The visit went nearly the same as the day before. Upon arrival, she sent Bobby out for a soda.

He left reluctantly, and once he was gone, I steeled myself for the verbal volley.

"You didn't tell me that you're a widow."

Ah, she must have asked Bobby after yesterday's visit. Which meant that they'd talked about me.

I was both curious and embarrassed by that prospect.

"You didn't ask. You asked if I was married. I'm not."

"But you _were_."

"I was."

"Why are you a cop?"

"I'm good at it."

"Isn't that a man's job?"

"You don't believe that," I challenged.

"How do you know what I believe?"

"Because of how you raised your son."

My response silenced her, and for a moment, I thought that she was going to cry.

Hell, I thought that _I_ was going to cry.

She just held my gaze, and her eyes softened and filled with tears.

But none fell. On her or on me.

And then Bobby came back.

I left the two of them alone and once again went out to wait for him. This time, when he came out, he didn't apologize.

"Thank you," he said quietly as we made our way to the car.

"You're welcome."

We drove back to work without another word.

We were making progress with the case, and I thought that I was making progress with Bobby.

And it wasn't that I was building up to some grand confession of love. I just wanted him to know that he didn't have to be alone. That he had people who cared about him, people he could lean on.

But then we found the book from the sixties, and his mood began to darken.

Something was off. Something had been off with him since the case began, but I'd attributed it solely to his mother's declining health.

But it wasn't just that.

The next day, he visited his mother alone.

When he came back to work, he was sure that his mother was somehow involved, had potentially been involved with Brady.

It was nearly painful to watch him unload on Ross, although the captain had pushed it.

He never seemed to know quite how to handle Bobby, so he tended to either set him off, or look blankly to me for help.

This time he set him off, and it was up to me to buy Bobby a few more days on the case.

"Is he getting any sleep at all?" Ross asked me.

How in the world did he think that I'd know the answer to that one?

But it wasn't the time to call him out on his inane question.

Instead, I promised to look after him. Promised to tell Ross if I thought that Bobby was getting too close.

And yeah, that would happen. The day I ratted out my partner to Ross would be the day I turned in my shield.

But Ross bought it.

The next day, Bobby visited his mother, again without me. And he had lunch with Frank.

And then came the real kicker.

He wanted to go talk to Brady without me. That's when the whole trust thing came into play.

"Bobby, come on…I'm your _partner_," I reminded him, nearly pleading for him not to go off without me.

"Then you have to trust me, Eames," he said softly, staring at me, silently begging for me to acquiesce.

Because as hard-headed as Bobby is, I don't doubt for a second that if I'd have pushed it, he would've relented.

He wanted to do it alone, but with my consent.

And how much would it mean to him at this point to have me blindly trust him?

To say, _yeah, okay Bobby, you go do what you have to do and I'll batten down the hatches for you_.

It had to mean a lot. So I stepped aside, and let him pass.

I didn't see him again that day.

The next day, I came into work, but he went straight to the hospital. He called to tell me where he was going, but made no mention of what had happened yesterday.

And then a couple of hours later, I got another call.

His mom had died.

I wished that I could've been there with him. Not while he was watching over his mother as she took her last breath, but for afterwards.

And really, I could be there. I _would_ be there.

So I went to see Ross to let him know that I'd be leaving, and he showed me Brady's confession, complete with details of every victim.

I flipped through it, my interest waning as my need to be with Bobby increased. I finished up as quickly as I could and then I drove to the hospital.

I didn't know what kind of reception I'd get since I hadn't told Bobby that I was coming, but the bottom line was that he needed a friend. And I liked to give myself the title of his _best_ friend.

The one who knew him better than anyone else.

So as I got out of the car and crossed the parking lot, I shoved down my nerves.

_This is for Bobby. Even if he doesn't act happy to see me, at some point he'll appreciate my presence._

I got off of the elevator and turned the corner and there he was.

His jacket and tie were gone, his shirt was open at the neck, and his face was ravaged with grief.

He did a double-take when he saw me, as though he thought at first that I was a figment of his imagination.

And then he slowly walked up to me and held out his arms in a gesture of helplessness, seemingly unable to form words.

I didn't think, and I didn't hesitate.

I hugged him.

At first he felt stiff, as though my action was unexpected.

And I guess that it was. We'd never hugged before.

But I knew the moment that he made the decision to let go.

He sagged against me and just held on.

Two days later, I sat closely beside him as he buried his mother. I was happy to see that he had other friends, people who came to pay their respects.

But Frank was conspicuously absent.

During the course of those two days, Bobby and I had talked a little about her passing, but I had a feeling that the flood was yet to come.

But for all of my wisdom, I was still caught off guard when it actually came.

It was three a.m.

Actually, three-oh-three and I know this because I was lying in bed watching the clock tick off the minutes.

For some reason, sleep was eluding me.

Some reason. Huh.

I hadn't talked to Bobby all day, and I was more than a little concerned.

I'd been riding a desk since the day Frances Goren died while Bobby took a month's worth of personal leave.

At Ross' insistence, of course.

And currently, Bobby was only a week in. I had a feeling that the next three weeks were going to be the longest of my life.

But so I was watching the clock when I heard it.

A knock so soft that at first I thought that I'd imagined it.

And then I heard it again.

Only one person would be at my door in the middle of the night.

One person who would arrive, and yet knock in a manner so as not to wake me.

I got out of bed quickly and for the sake of propriety, I threw a sweatshirt on over my tank top.

Then I hurried to the door and without even checking through the peephole, I opened it up.

There stood Bobby, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with an unbuttoned flannel shirt over it.

We looked at each other for a long minute.

I'm sure that he was nervous about showing up, and I was…elated that he'd come to me, thrilled about the possibility that he was going to let me in and yet afraid that I would somehow let him down.

"Are you…am I…can we talk?" he asked at last.

I stepped back from the door and opened it fully to allow him entrance as I replied.

"Always."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Bobby POV**

* * *

When Eames showed up at the hospital the day my mother died…well, I can't describe what that meant to me.

More even than the days before when she'd come to meet my mom.

Because then I could write it off as curiosity.

_Let's go take a look at my partner's crazy mother. That way I'll know what to look for if he ever starts losing his mind…_

And I was slightly ashamed of myself for even having that thought. Because I knew damn well that Eames wasn't like that. But it was an easy out for my over-taxed mind. It kept me from analyzing what the real reason might be.

But then she came _that_ day, the day my mother died.

I nearly cried at the sight of her.

Here was my friend. Here was someone to share the burden.

And that was exactly what she did.

That day, and the next two days that followed, she stuck by me. She took time off of work, she helped me make the arrangements, and she remained steadfast throughout the viewing and subsequent funeral.

And never once did she try to make me talk.

Oh, we talked about other things.

Work things.

Not Brady, of course, but other cases and colleagues and Ross.

We talked about her nephew and her dad and whether or not it might rain the next day.

But that was about it. And she didn't push me for more.

The day after the funeral, she went back to work. And I began what I liked to call my month-long penitence.

Technically, it was family medical leave. But in actuality, it was my punishment for yelling at Ross.

Because I didn't need a whole damn month off of work.

In fact, I needed work. I needed to keep busy.

Otherwise I was going to be the _next_ resident of Carmel Ridge.

Because thoughts of Brady and my mother kept swirling through my brain until I thought for sure that I'd breached the limits of sanity.

I called Eames at least once a day. She was my tether to the real world, and I looked forward to the calls much more than I will ever admit.

If I thought that I could get away with it, without causing her additional worry, I would've called more often. But once a day allowed me to hear her voice without creating concern.

I found out that she didn't pull a temporary partner, but instead was on desk duty.

She was less than thrilled, so I masked my pleasure that no one had taken my place.

On day six, I went to see Lewis.

He'd been at the funeral, of course. He'd known me longer than anyone with whom I was still in contact, and he'd spent quite a bit of time around my mother back in the old days.

So I thought that maybe I could talk to him, tell him about my conflicted feelings and my worst fear.

But I didn't.

Instead, we drank a couple of beers and talked about the engine he was currently rebuilding. We laughed over a few shared memories about my mother.

The time she'd busted us skipping school…the day she'd come home early, catching us with our girlfriends, making out in the den…

My mother had her days of lucidity. Sure, she'd had bad days, too. And the bad days probably outnumbered the good.

But the good ones were the ones worth remembering.

So I sat in Lewis' garage and remembered.

But I didn't talk about what was really on my mind. Although reminiscing with him did help a little to ease my grief. It was nice knowing that there was someone else who had loved her, especially since once again Frank was nowhere to be found.

I left his place after a few hours, and I had the sudden urge to go by Eames' place.

I thought that maybe I could tell her all of the things that I'd wanted to tell Lewis.

Because even though he'd known me longer than anyone, I had a feeling that she knew me better.

But as I rode the train toward Forest Hills, my fear got the best of me.

What would Eames say if I showed up on her doorstep?

What would she think?

How would she feel if I unloaded the weight of the world onto her slight shoulders?

The last thought brought a smile to my face. Eames might be small in stature, but I had no doubt that she could withstand the pressure.

But was it fair of me to ask her to?

_She came to meet your mother_, I reminded myself.

And of course, then she'd come back the next day. She would've come back every day after that if I'd let her.

And why was that? Why did she want to keep coming back?

I pondered that as I got off the train and in a cowardly fashion, reversed my route and slunk back to my apartment.

I ate dinner alone, standing at the counter. It was my habit to do so, although I had no idea why. It felt like additional punishment, as though I didn't deserve the comfort of sitting at the kitchen table.

Why did I feel the need to punish myself?

And why was I intent on denying myself the comfort of Eames' friendship?

More food for thought as I climbed into bed.

For some reason, as I tossed and turned beneath the covers, I thought back over the case.

Ross, taking me off of it and Eames hustling after him until I was miraculously reinstated.

Had I ever thanked her for that?

Me, standing in front of the elevator while she looked pleadingly at me as I tossed about a powerful word like trust.

I'd hurt her with my insistence on solitude. Had I ever apologized to her for that?

And then that last day. In the hospital.

I'd come out just to breathe because the finality and sadness of the air in the room felt as though it was crushing my lungs.

The sight of her, standing there with such uncertainty on her face, as though she was afraid I might be angry with her for intruding. She was afraid, and yet she'd come anyway.

Had I ever told her how much her courage meant? How much it _means_?

I got out of bed and felt nausea rolling through me. I just kept taking and taking from her without ever giving her anything.

How long would she put up with that? How long could I let her?

Mindless of the time, I pulled on some clothes and left my apartment.

I didn't consciously think about where I was going.

I just went.

I wandered around the city aimlessly until suddenly there I was, at Eames' apartment.

It was two forty-five when I arrived at her door. It took me a full eighteen minutes to get up the nerve to knock.

Because somehow, deep down, I knew that once I knocked, things between us would irrevocably change.

In my haste to leave my apartment, I'd left my armor behind. Or maybe it had been intentional, I don't know.

But just because I had no intention of making a bold confession of love, I knew that we'd talk about things. And I _really_ needed to talk about things.

As wrong as it had felt to bring it up with Lewis, it felt that right to discuss it with Eames.

So no. I wasn't going to spout out _I love you_, even though it was true. I loved her.

But if I knocked, and she let me in, our relationship would forever be altered.

My head hurt from over-thinking. So instead, I went with my gut.

I knocked. And then I forced all thoughts of panic from my head.

When she first opened the door, I very nearly forgot my purpose for coming over.

She looked too alert to have been sleeping, but she'd obviously just gotten out of the bed.

Of _course_ she did. It's the middle of the night.

But she stood there and looked me up and down before waiting expectantly for me to say something.

Several things went through my head.

_Are you alone? _

Please, let her be alone. I don't think I could handle it if she weren't.

_Am I interrupting anything? _

Again, that would be a spirit crusher.

I'm sure that at certain times in her life, Eames had relieved pent-up sexual urges just like everyone else.

I just didn't want tonight to have been one of those nights. Or last night. Or any night last week.

In fact, I liked to believe that maybe she hadn't had sex since we'd been partnered together.

Unrealistic?

Probably.

But I can believe what I want in my own little fantasy world.

She was still waiting for me to speak, and my previous questions nearly slipped from my lips.

"Are you…am I…can we talk?"

Because really, talking was what I came here to do.

And if she _wasn't_ alone, or if I _was_ interrupting something, then I had no doubt that she would send me packing.

But she didn't.

She flung open the door, gave me a small smile, and replied, "Always."

Did I mention that I love her?

Or that I'm _in_ love with her?

Because I am, and if I'd had any doubt before, the ease with which she welcomed me into her sanctuary in the pre-dawn hours would've sealed the deal.

She showed me into the living room and together we sat down on the couch.

The room was bathed in the glow from the light in the kitchen, but she hadn't turned on any lights in this room. It was warm and comfortable and I took a moment just to soak it in.

"You didn't call me today," she said softly after a few minutes of silence.

"I went to see Lewis," I replied, secretly pleased that she'd noticed.

"How is he?"

"He's good. He's…you know…Lewis. We talked about my mom."

"That's good. It must have been nice to be able to share memories with someone who knew her."

See? She understands me.

And I need to be careful or I'm going to have her so high up on a pedestal that I may never be able to reach her.

We were quiet again, and then suddenly she started talking in a low, gentle voice.

And she told me about Joe.

Of course, I'd known about him. I'd heard a few things from her, as well as a few details that floated around the department.

But I hadn't heard what she told me now.

The good, the bad, and the ugly of their entire relationship.

Some of it made me want to punch Joe.

Some of it made me look at her in a new light because I couldn't picture her doing or saying the things she'd confessed to.

And yet as a whole, it gave me new insight into her. There was so much more to Eames than what I knew from work, and what little I knew from outside of work.

I felt honored that she trusted me with her words, especially considering that a couple of stories she'd told me had been prefaced with _I've never told anyone_…

"Wow, I didn't really mean to get into all of that," she said as she got up from the couch. "I'm sorry. Do you want something to drink?"

"I should let you go to bed," I offered lamely. "You have work in the morning."

But she waved me off and went into the kitchen. She came back quickly bearing two cups of coffee.

"It's decaf," she said as she handed one to me.

Good because my nerves were buzzing. It was strange how I was at once relaxed and yet on edge in her home.

Or maybe it wasn't so strange. Because I knew why I was on edge.

Things needed to be said and I was afraid of ruining the moment.

But I had to trust her. Hadn't I expected the same from her?

Well now it was my turn.

I had to trust her to listen and understand without judgment.

"I'm sorry," I began. "For not taking you with me that last time…when I…when I went to talk to Brady."

I finished the words in a rush with my eyes focused on the rug, but when she didn't respond, I finally met her gaze.

"Did you find out what you wanted to know?"

"I tried to kill him," I admitted, slightly deflecting her question.

"Oh, well then I should've gone with you. I could've helped," she replied with a smirk.

"Eames, I'm serious."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," I responded immediately. Because I couldn't remember the last time that Eames had asked something of me. It was always me asking, me taking, me demanding…

"Can you call me Alex? I mean, when we're not working. When we're being…friends."

That was about the last thing I'd expected her to say.

And okay, so I really didn't have any expectations when she'd asked for a favor, but…she wanted me to call her Alex?

The very fact that she made a point to ask would indicate that she planned to spend a lot more time as…friends.

Otherwise, why bother establishing the guidelines?

"Okay, Alex," I agreed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," she said as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Go ahead. You tried to kill Brady and…"

"Alex," I said again, liking the feel of the name on my tongue. Only this time, I said it on a sigh because she wasn't grasping the gravity of what I'd done. "I put my hands on his throat."

She nodded at me encouragingly, understanding my need for confession.

"If I'd held on for another minute…I'd be…I'd be just like him."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"That man toyed with you and taunted you for nearly two weeks. He had information that you wanted. Information you needed. It's a perfectly natural reaction for you to snap."

"But you don't…you don't _know._"

And yet when I looked at her, I thought that maybe she did.

"Did you find out what you wanted to know?" she asked, repeating her earlier question.

And I could tell that she _did_ know. She _did_ know my suspicion.

But she held my gaze, her eyes unwavering.

"I…didn't, no," I admitted. "Not for sure anyway. But the…possibility remains."

And like her the hour before, I suddenly began to talk.

My fears, not just about Brady being my father, but also the knowledge of what he'd put my mother through.

And then my guilt over my mother. Because her death had made me feel many things, and among them was relief that it was finally over.

How shameful was that?

What kind of son felt that way when his mother died?

"She was sick, and in a lot of pain," Alex reminded me. "Relief is a normal response."

"It's selfish," I countered.

"You spent every possible minute with her," she reminded me. "There isn't a selfish bone in your body."

"I'm selfish when it comes to you," I said, the words escaping before I could catch them.

"What do you mean?"

"Ross suggested that I ask for another partner."

"He what?" she asked sharply. "When?"

"When he called me about taking the extended leave," I said.

I hadn't planned to tell her about this. Partly because I knew that it would upset her, but also because I was afraid of planting the seed.

"Tell me," she insisted.

"He said that he knew that I was going through a lot lately, and he understood why my career was stumbling. He said that I should consider requesting a new partner, someone who was nearing retirement. Someone who wouldn't be…tainted by me. But I couldn't do it. I _can't _do it. I…I don't want another partner. I'd say that makes me pretty selfish."

"I'd say that makes you pretty smart," she said with a serious look on her face. She stood up and pointed her finger at my chest to emphasize her statement. "Because if you ever do something like that you have to know that I'd hunt you down and…"

"I get it," I said on a laugh. And then I reached out and grabbed her hand where it was jabbing me in the chest.

"Alex," I continued softly. "I get it."

She seemed slightly startled by my touch, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she sat back down on the couch, closer to me than before.

I kept her hand in mine and I didn't let go.

I liked the connection.

I liked the warmth.

And I liked tingling sensation that traveled down to my toes at the contact.

She leaned her head against the back cushion and turned to look at me. Her ire from moments ago was gone, seemingly completely eradicated by the touch of my hand.

That was a heady feeling, and a theory that I might have to test out again some time.

We were sharing a moment here, and it suddenly hit me that I wanted to kiss her.

Really, _really_ wanted to kiss her.

And as often as I'd dreamt about Eames, and as acquainted as I was with the self-awareness of my love for her, I couldn't remember ever feeling this strong of a pull to put my lips to hers.

And while I debated the merits of ruining everything with such an action, I held her gaze and wished that I could read her mind.

Did she want me to kiss her?

Would Eames even wait for me?

Or would she be bold enough to make the first move?

Or, worse yet, was I completely misreading the situation?

My internal battle was all for naught when the sound of her alarm shattered the silence.

"I guess it's time for you to get up," I said with a chuckle, reluctantly letting go of her hand so that she could go turn off the offending equipment.

"I guess so," she agreed as she stood up, but she lingered in front of me for just a moment.

And then she did it.

She leaned over me, resting her hands on my thighs.

And she kissed me.

With the alarm blaring in the background, and the early morning sun filtering through the living room windows, she gently put her lips to mine.

"Thank you," she told me when she pulled back slightly, her hands still burning through the fabric of my jeans, and her lips still temptingly close.

"For…" I began in confusion.

She was thanking me?

She'd kissed me. I would be indebted to her for years to come.

"For sharing."

Then she stood up fully and slowly tore her gaze from mine before going down the hall.

It was official.

I would remember this moment forever.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Alex POV**

* * *

I'm not sure how I got my feet to move, but I did.

Because the rest of me was in shock at what I'd just done.

I _kissed_ him.

And yeah, it hadn't been anything overtly sexual. It could be construed as a completely innocent moment shared between friends.

But still…where had I summoned up the nerve to do that?

Probably because of the way that he'd been looking at me while he held my hand.

_He held my hand_.

Just that thought alone was worth repeating as I walked into my bedroom and shut off my alarm.

I stood for a moment in the sudden silence.

Now what?

I was going to have to walk back out there and face him.

"Alex?"

I turned to find that he'd come about halfway down the hall, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of getting too close to my bedroom. His unexpected shyness made me smile.

"You can come in. I won't bite."

He blushed at my remark, which admittedly did come out a bit more flirtatious than I'd intended, but he still only took two steps closer to the doorway.

"I just…I'd probably better go," he said. "I know that you need to get ready for work, and I've already kept you from getting a good night's sleep, and…"

"I'm glad you came by," I interrupted.

I crossed the bedroom and stood next to him in the hallway, since he seemed unable to enter the hallowed room.

"Me, too," he replied, still looking down at the carpet.

"Maybe you can come back later on," I offered. "After work."

"Yeah?" he asked hopefully, raising his eyes to meet mine.

I thought I'd been the one in control of this little dance we were doing, but the intensity of his gaze hit me like a sucker punch and I suddenly felt off-balance.

And extremely turned on.

Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't come into my bedroom. I might not have been able to control myself if he'd stood too close to my unmade bed.

"Yeah," I agreed, sounding embarrassingly breathless.

And when, exactly, had I teleported back to high school?

"Okay," he said with a smile. "Maybe I'll come over a little earlier this time, huh? I can bring dinner."

He brought his hand up as though he was going to touch me, but after letting it hover briefly in the space between us, he instead ran it through his own hair.

"That sounds great," I agreed.

"Good. Okay. Well, I guess I'd better let you…get to it. I don't want to make you late."

Another awkward moment passed over us as we both stood indecisively in the hallway.

When did saying goodbye start causing me to be so tongue-tied?

Oh, that's right.

When I kissed him.

Because before then, we'd had no trouble saying it.

_Bye._

It was really quite simple. And now neither of us seemed capable.

Or was it just that we didn't want to do the action, which made the word more difficult to say?

I finally felt the sound bubbling up from inside of me when he made a move toward me.

A smooth, fluid motion that had him leaning down and capturing my lips briefly, tenderly and yet firmly, before he returned to his full height.

"I'll see you later," he said in a way that sounded like a promise.

Then he turned and left my apartment while I stood frozen in the hall.

_Now it was on both of us_, I thought with a smile.

He'd kissed me.

And really, mine could be explained away as a friendly, post deep-conversation kiss.

His had no such label.

It was just a kiss.

Except that it wasn't _just_ anything.

However fleeting it had been, it had still managed to send butterflies through me that I continued to feel throughout the day whenever I recalled the sensation of his lips against mine.

And I did so often.

In fact, I had quite a bit of trouble concentrating on my paperwork.

I can blame it on the lack of sleep all I want, but the truth of the matter was that I was thinking about Bobby.

His mother had asked me what I was waiting for, and I hadn't been sure of the answer.

Was I afraid of the whole fraternization thing?

Or of running the risk of losing my best friend if things didn't work out?

Or that maybe he simply didn't feel the same way about me?

No. I wasn't about to let work control my personal life, and I've always been a risk-taker.

I think I'd just been waiting for the right time.

And now that time had suddenly arrived, because he'd opened up to me in ways I'd never expected.

And I wasn't crazy enough to think that last night had changed everything. That he was suddenly going to shake his insecurities and develop a strong sense of self-worth.

In fact, throughout the day, every time my phone rang, I anticipated it to be Bobby, calling to cancel.

And when he didn't call, I still half-expected that he wouldn't show.

He would've had the whole day to think about the error of his ways, and he'd decide that he needed to _protect _me from him and his destructiveness and so he'd hole up in his apartment tonight, and tomorrow he'd call to apologize.

But he'd be cool.

Distant.

And he'd pretend that we'd never kissed.

Twice.

I felt myself getting angry about the hypothetical situation as I climbed the stairs to my apartment.

_If he stands me up, I'm just going to go over to his place and set him straight, because I'm not going to put up with…_

"Hey, Alex."

Bobby stood leaning casually against my door with a brown paper sack in his hand.

And holy smokes the man looked hot.

I mean, he always looks good, but I could tell he'd made the effort before coming over.

He was clean shaven, and for Bobby that meant he must've done it within the past hour.

He wore black jeans and a striped button-down shirt that was open at the collar.

I could smell the delectable scent of his aftershave as I got closer to him. I wanted to close my eyes and bury my nose against his chest, but that probably wasn't my best course of action at the moment.

"I wasn't sure what time, so…" he said hesitantly.

"So you came over to stalk me?"

"Are you okay? You looked awfully…intense…when you came out of the stairwell. Did you change your mind? Because if you're tired, or you'd rather not do this, I can…"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "No, I'm sorry. I was just…thinking back over the day."

"You were plotting out what you'd do to me if I didn't show," he corrected knowingly.

I barked out a laugh as I unlocked the door.

"Right as usual, Detective Goren," I replied.

"Judging by the look on your face, I'd say it's a pretty good thing I showed up."

"It's a very good thing," I told him, suddenly dropping the tease. I closed the door behind us and set my things down on the kitchen table. "I'm glad you came."

As worried as I'd been that he might flake made me realize how important this night was to me.

I wanted to move things forward with us, and it had taken us so long to get past that first hurdle that I was going to fight tooth and nail to keep us from rolling backwards.

"Why don't you get changed and I'll get dinner out," he offered as he set the bag down on the table.

"You don't have…" I began, but my words left me when he turned to me and raised his hand again, just as he'd done this morning.

Only this time, he gently touched the side of my face.

"You worked all day after I kept you up all night. Let me do this for you," he said softly.

His touch combined with the timbre of his voice sent a rush of arousal through me.

"Okay," I agreed, not taking my eyes from his.

I thought that maybe he was going to kiss me again, but he didn't.

Or maybe he was hoping that I'd kiss him, I don't know.

But the moment hung in the air between us as he caressed his thumb along my cheek.

And then he dropped his hand and turned back toward the table.

"Is wine okay?" he asked.

"That would be great," I agreed as I tamped down the sigh that wanted to escape. "I'll be right back."

I left him alone in my kitchen and went down the hall to the bedroom.

I was almost ashamed of myself for the rush of teenaged excitement that rolled through me. Although maybe it was unfair to label it _teenaged_. Maybe it was just the thrill of romance, the potential for love that had tossed me back to my earlier years.

Because I certainly hadn't felt this way in a long time. I'd been on my share of dates, but none that had me practically vibrating with anticipation.

And did I really just equate this to a _date_?

_Was_ it a date?

He'd come to my apartment at dinnertime, and he'd brought food.

He'd clearly made the effort to look nice, and he'd brought wine.

As much time as we'd spent together over the course of our partnership, this was definitely different.

This was a date.

Which meant that I was dating my partner.

Not exactly my smartest move, but also not as life-shattering as some might think.

I mean, who knows me better than him? Who better to trust with my heart?

I got out of my work clothes and then I had a moment of panic.

What the hell was I supposed to put on?

He was dressed nice. Casual, but nice.

That's how I'd been dressed for work.

How much sense would it make to put on something similar to what I'd just taken off?

And when, for the love of God, had I turned into such a girl?

Annoyed with myself, I pulled out a pair of comfortable faded jeans from the dresser drawer. They'd seen better days, but they fit well.

I then debated between a blouse and a sweater, but I ended up with the plain white blouse.

And I shamelessly left one extra button undone.

I decided that touching up my make-up would be too obvious, so I ran my fingers through my hair and then went back into the kitchen.

"Better?" Bobby asked me as he held out a glass of wine.

How could I not be better?

I was out of my heels. I had a gorgeous man in my kitchen offering me wine, and an excellent-smelling dinner was waiting for me on the table.

I wasn't sure that it got much better than this.

In fact, I was half-expecting to wake up at any moment.

Although my dream-self would've undoubtedly ravaged Bobby by now, so it had to be real.

I took the proffered glass and gave him a nod. I couldn't help but notice that his eyes tracked over me and a small smile played on his lips.

_A smile_.

Was this really the same man who'd barely been able to stand only a week ago after his mother had died?

The same face that had been etched with the hardness of life?

And yet here he was – looking happy and years younger.

It was like a door had been opened and he was suddenly going to allow himself to truly live.

I realized that while I was thinking these thoughts that I'd been staring at him. And he'd been staring at me.

Each of us too afraid to make a move, and yet both of us clearly wanting to.

We needed to get things out in the open.

"What are we doing here, Bobby?" I asked on a sigh.

"Having dinner?" he suggested.

"Are we having a date?"

"Do we have to label it?"

I closed my eyes against his apparent denial.

Maybe he _wasn't_ ready for this. And really, why was I suddenly pushing? Why was the status quo no longer good enough for me?

It was just too soon.

We needed to focus on being better friends.

And there needed to be no more kissing.

It was too hard.

I wanted him too much to be able to deal with that kind of temptation when he wasn't ready for anything more.

I opened my eyes and forced myself to give him a smile.

"Let's eat," I said as I turned away from him and went to the table.

"Why do I feel like I've just failed some kind of test?"

"There's no test," I said. "I just…it's strange…being together like this. And I think that maybe we're jumping into things. You've…been through a lot, and…we're not working together right now, and...we were both feeling vulnerable last night, so maybe we just need to take a step back and think about what we want before we mess up what we already have."

It hurt much more than I'd expected, to say those words.

I'd made it sound as if this had been a whim. The kiss last night, the offer of dinner…it had just been born out of circumstance.

And okay, specifically it had, but that didn't mean that I hadn't been hoping for something exactly like this to happen.

"You think this is…what? I'm bored while on leave? I'm desperate for affection after losing my mother?"

And yeah, okay, so I'd pissed him off.

He came around the table and stood in front of me, his eyes piercing mine like his mother's had done the week before.

"I came here last night because I needed a friend. I needed my best friend. And I realized at some point that maybe you saw me as something more. Was I wrong about that?"

"No," I managed to say, nearly rendered speechless by his intensity.

He took another step toward me and I found myself backing up.

"You know, I would've never gotten up the nerve to take this step with you. I would've spent the rest of my life wishing that I could have you and yet never saying a word. But you were the brave one. You opened the door, but now you're going to close it before we even get to see what's inside?"

"I just…I don't…we're not…"

For the life of me, I couldn't string together enough words to make a sentence.

"Did I read too much into this whole situation?"

By this point, I'd backed up as far as I could go, both literally and figuratively.

I had the kitchen wall at my back, and I had the future of our relationship in my hands.

My heart pounded as he continued to stare at me, and I knew that I had to say something, quickly, before he walked away.

Because this was it.

This was our one chance.

If I knew anything about Bobby, it was that he wouldn't be made a fool of twice.

And right now, that's how I'd made him feel.

I'd strung him along and then hit the brakes.

And _why_?

Because I'd expected him to verbally admit to what was happening between us even when I struggled to put a label on it myself?

Or was it just because I was scared?

My hesitation caused his confidence to plummet. He dropped his eyes and relaxed his stance.

"No," I told him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"No what?" he asked, and his tone was accepting, defeated.

"You didn't misread," I said.

His eyes snapped up to mine as I brought my hands up to feel the smoothness of his cheeks.

He opened his mouth to say something, but that was when I made my move.

And this kiss was anything but innocent.

I could taste the wine and the lingering hint of the cigarette that he'd surely smoked while waiting for me to get home.

And then I felt the strong sureness of his capable hands, stroking the length of my back. I could feel the heat of them through the thin fabric of my blouse, sparking fires against my skin.

I rose up on my toes to get a better angle, but he worked with me, leaning down and deepening the kiss.

I moved my hands from his cheeks into his hair, weaving my fingers through the thick waves and pulling him closer to me.

I couldn't stop the contented moan that rumbled through me as he pushed his hips against mine, the hardness of him putting pressure against me exactly where I needed it most.

He repeated the action, apparently liking the sound that he'd elicited from me, and then he moved his lips from mine and whispered into my ear.

"Are you sure about this? Because I'm going to have to defer to your common sense, and I don't want to talk you into anything that you don't want to do. I mean, we _are_ partners."

Of course, as he made that last statement, he ran his hands down over my butt, his fingers clenching firmly through the tight denim.

"I don't think we have a choice now," I said with a grin. "Your hands are on my ass."

"Alex…" he whispered, and the husky sound of his voice told me just how thin his control was at the moment.

Now _that_ was a heady thought.

He was holding himself back, waiting for me to confirm that this was, in fact, a good idea.

Was it?

Who knew?

But I was sure as hell going to find out.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Bobby POV**

* * *

I'd spent the entire day thinking about Alex.

_Alex_. Not Eames.

Funny how that simple distinction seemed to open up a world of possibilities.

And the kiss.

The one that she'd given me.

So brief and chaste yet it had filled me with hope of potential happiness.

And maybe I was placing too much importance on it.

After all, she'd said _thank you_ afterwards.

She'd kissed me out of gratitude, right? Out of appreciation for opening up to her, for talking to her rather than shutting down.

But I'd known Alex for many years. She wasn't a casual kisser.

She wasn't one of those people who kissed hello and goodbye and everything in between.

No, it had to mean something.

I'd wandered down the hall after she'd gone to shut off the alarm because…well, I don't know why.

Okay, I _do_ know why.

My curiosity had gotten the better of me. I wanted to get a glimpse of her bedroom, because as many times as I'd been in her place, I'd never seen it.

But I'd stopped short at the sight of her unmade bed. The accompanying mental image of her lying in it, as she'd been when I'd knocked on her door, was just too powerful. Too intimate.

It was a breach of her privacy, me being so close.

But then she'd teased me about it.

"You can come in. I won't bite."

_Even if I want you to?_

My risqué thought only served to further prove my point.

I had no business entering her bedroom.

I made a token move, only going a couple of steps, and then I stumbled through a lame goodbye.

Then she surprised me by asking for me to come back after work.

Was she coming on to me? Did she really see me like that?

I had to find out.

"Okay," I replied. "Maybe I'll come over a little earlier this time, huh? I can bring dinner."

Because dinner was more like a date, right?

She had a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her eye and I started to push it back, to tuck it behind her ear, but I paused in mid-air when I realized that I didn't exactly have that right.

I didn't really have permission to touch her like that _just yet_.

So instead I ran it over my own hair and awaited her response.

"That sounds great."

I barely heard my own response as I debated whether or not I could get away with kissing her.

Because I wanted to.

I wanted to feel her lips again when I was better prepared to catalog the sensation.

She'd taken me by surprise before. This time I'd be ready for the mental snapshot.

I brought my lips to hers, and I had to force myself to keep it quick and yet memorable.

I wanted her to think about it today. I wanted her to think about _me_.

"I'll see you later," I told her, and then I turned swiftly so that she wouldn't see the smile that broke out over my face.

And to think that I'd almost been too afraid to knock.

Once I was back at home, I'd showered and had breakfast, and then cleaned the apartment. I didn't want to go to sleep. It didn't seem fair since I knew that Alex wouldn't have the opportunity.

I hadn't asked her specifically what time I should come over, and I was afraid to call because I didn't want to give her the chance to cancel.

So instead, I picked up some take-out and a bottle of wine and headed to her place around four.

She normally worked until closer to five, but since she was doing paperwork, I had a feeling that she may try to escape a little early.

And I didn't mind waiting. It gave me time to think. So I smoked a cigarette while I loitered in her hallway and pondered this turn of events.

I was getting ready to have a date with my partner.

Was I?

Or was it just dinner?

Maybe it would be better if we didn't try to pigeonhole it. Maybe we needed to just go with the flow so that we didn't over analyze it.

Because honestly, scrutinization is my forte. If left to my own devices, I'd be picking apart each and every possible worst-case scenario that could come from this.

But I trusted Alex to know what she was doing, so I forced aside my analytical urges and instead thought again about those two kisses.

I hoped that I'd have a third to add to the mix by the end of the night. I wasn't going to push things along too quickly, but I didn't think another kiss was too much to ask for.

I heard her light footfalls in the stairwell, so I put out my cigarette and attempted to look casual.

After a brief exchange during which she confessed to me that she'd fully expected me to cancel, we entered her apartment.

I liked her place. It was homey and warm, the kind of place that made it easy to shed the stress of the day. Not that I'd had much today, but Alex…

"Why don't you get changed and I'll get dinner out," I said after putting down the bag.

I didn't want her to feel like she was in work mode, and sometimes just shedding the clothes from the day helped to shed the tension as well.

"You don't have…" she started, but then she trailed off when I settled my palm against her cheek.

I'd wanted to touch her, and for some reason, I couldn't stop myself this time. Her skin was soft, and the tips of my fingers brushed against her hair.

"You worked all day after I kept you up all night. Let me do this for you," I insisted.

"Okay."

I really, really wanted to kiss her again.

But not yet. I needed to let her relax first.

I didn't want her to think that I'd come here just for that.

I took another moment to rub the pad of my thumb against her face, and then I dropped my hand and turned back toward the table.

"Is wine okay?" I asked, slightly nervous that it would seem presumptuous.

Wine was romantic, wasn't it? Was it too much?

"That would be great," she said. "I'll be right back."

I made myself at home in her kitchen while she was gone, and tried hard not to picture what she was presently doing.

Unbuttoning her slacks…taking off her sweater…

I shook my head and quickly focused on what I was doing. I uncorked the wine and poured some into two glasses, and then, after glancing skeptically at the cardboard cartons of take-out, I got out two plates from the cabinet and distributed the food.

I heard the bedroom door open, so I picked up one glass of wine from the counter.

"Better?" I asked her as she came into the kitchen.

It was a good thing that I said the word before I actually looked at her because I was momentarily robbed of my speech by the sight of her.

Form-fitting faded jeans and a white blouse.

I could see the outline of her bra through the thin fabric, and better yet, I could see a tiny portion of the garment itself.

She normally left the top three buttons open. I know. I've counted before.

But tonight, she'd left an additional button undone, creating a tantalizing glimpse of the satin and lace beneath.

Was that on purpose?

To entice me?

Did she _not _know that I was nearly ready to explode already?

But I had to admit that I loved the idea that she'd made the effort.

I forced my eyes back up to hers, because if I kept looking at that unbuttoned area, we'd never get to dinner.

And this was Alex. I wasn't about to ravage her in her kitchen just because I had no self-control.

She'd invited me for dinner, not sex.

She took the glass from my hand and gave me a subtle, almost knowing nod and I felt myself smiling.

The exhilarating feeling of new romance…how could I have forgotten how good it feels?

We kept looking at each other, and I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do next.

I mean, I knew what I _wanted_ to do, but…

"What are we doing here, Bobby?" she asked, and I couldn't get a read on her.

Was she having doubts? I decided to play it safe.

"Having dinner?"

"Are we having a date?"

She had to ask? If she had to ask, then maybe I was wrong about all of this.

"Do we have to label it?" I asked cautiously.

Because I didn't want to put the _wrong_ label on it.

But she closed her eyes, and I suddenly had a rush of apprehension roll through me.

The niggling sensation of fear.

She finally looked at me again, plastered on a smile, and suggested that we eat.

And then she turned away.

"Why do I feel like I've just failed some kind of test?"

She looked at me in exasperation and rambled on in a very un-Alex-like manner about how we were probably taking things too quickly and that our talk last night had made us feel things that weren't there.

So basically, she lied.

Because I knew damn well that I wasn't imagining what was going on between us.

"You think this is…what? I'm bored while on leave? I'm desperate for affection after losing my mother?" I asked sharply.

I walked around to stand in front of her, and continued my rant.

I wasn't going to let her off the hook just because she was afraid, and I wasn't going to let her brush it all under the rug.

She'd opened this can of worms.

She'd gotten my hopes up by offering me a glimpse of what we might have together.

A friendship _and_ a relationship.

I wasn't about to give up before we even got started.

"Did I read too much into this whole situation?" I asked at last after having said everything that was on my mind.

And really, this was the most important question of all.

Was I so sure that I was right about everything else?

Or had I just projected my feelings, seeing what I wanted to see?

By this point, I'd advanced on her until I nearly had her pinned against the kitchen wall.

I don't normally use my size in situations such as this, and I hadn't really intended to this time, but I wasn't too concerned about her being intimidated.

Eames knew how to take me down if she wanted to.

And despite the fact that it seemed as though I had the advantage, considering our position, it was Alex who held our fate.

Because I'd pushed as far as I could. As far as I would.

I wanted her.

I _really_ wanted her, but I didn't want to have to talk her into it.

What would be the point?

She either felt something or she didn't.

At her extended silence, I began to accept defeat. I couldn't look at her anymore, and the fight went out of me.

And then I heard her voice.

"No," she said.

No? I couldn't exactly remember how I'd phrased the question, so I wasn't sure if no was good or bad.

"No what?" I asked carefully.

"You didn't misread," she said.

As the meaning of her words permeated my brain, I brought my eyes up to hers again, and then she put her hands on my face, rubbing her palms against my cheeks.

I started to ask her if she was sure, but that was when she kissed me.

And yeah, she was sure.

Because this kiss was all about passion, about deep-seated, pent-up desire. She was showing me all of her emotion, and I returned it enthusiastically.

I ran my hands down her back, feeling the heat from her skin through the fabric.

Our height difference is considerable, and I don't normally give much thought to it, but then she went up on her toes in an effort to deepen the kiss, so I leaned down to meet her somewhere in the middle.

I'd expected that she knew how to kiss, but I hadn't anticipated the immediate effect it would have on my body. I was nearly painfully hard just from the kiss, and I couldn't keep myself from pushing my hips against her, desperately needing to ease the ache.

And when I did, she made this sound that only served to make me even harder. I hadn't realized that was possible. I pushed against her again to see if she would repeat the sound, and she did.

I was suddenly aware of two things.

One, that if we were going to stop, it needed to be soon. Like _now_.

And two, if we weren't going to stop, I was still going to need to slow down or I would be lucky if I made it out of my jeans.

But item number one came first.

"Are you sure about this? Because I'm going to have to defer to your common sense, and I don't want to talk you into anything that you don't want to do. I mean, we _are_ partners."

And on the off chance that she was going to put on the brakes, I quickly ran my hands down her back and over her butt, unable to resist squeezing the firmness of her backside as I pulled her even closer against me.

"I don't think we have a choice now," she said in her typically smartass voice. "Your hands are on my ass."

There's nothing sexier than a woman with a sense of humor in bed.

But still…I wanted her to be _sure_.

"Alex…" I pleaded, my voice giving away the tenuousness of my hold on my control.

She showed me her answer instead of speaking it.

She slowly moved her hands down to my chest, and then grabbed onto the material and pulled me down closer to her.

And this kiss, this fourth kiss…it had me reeling, because I was suddenly struck by the enormity of what we were about to do.

Because I was pretty sure that I _knew_ what we were about to do.

And as the thought filtered through my brain, her hands trailed down my chest but then hesitated at my belt buckle.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing.

This was a huge step.

Maybe _too_ big for a first date.

"I think we need to slow down," I said.

My voice sounded strained and the words felt foreign.

I don't think that I've ever exercised such restraint in my entire life.

Because it wasn't a stretch to imagine myself divesting her of those tight jeans and that sexy blouse and then running my hands and mouth over every inch of her…

"Maybe we should," she agreed.

She was breathless and her hands worked their way back to my face and into my hair.

I tightened my grip on her backside and pulled her firmly up against me.

"I want you," I assured her, just in case she was reading me wrong. "I want to do this. But we don't have to rush it. I'm not going anywhere."

She brought my head down to hers and kissed me again and this time it was slow and purposeful and gut-wrenchingly tender.

Instead of making me think about how much I needed to be inside of her, it made me realize how much I loved her, how much I wanted to just _be_ with her.

She pulled back fractionally, and held my gaze, her eyes more golden than I'd ever seen them before. She looked so beautiful…had I ever told her that I thought she was beautiful?

I brought one hand up to brush her hair back from her face, and I let my fingers linger over the strands.

"You are so beautiful," I said, wanting her to know exactly what I was thinking. It was a travesty that I'd waited so long to tell her something so basic and true.

"You don't have to talk me out of my clothes, Bobby. I was nearly there just a minute ago," she said, her wit firmly back in place.

But I wasn't going to let her deflect my compliment. I ran my hand down her jaw and under her chin to keep her gaze on mine.

"I mean it. You're beautiful. And I'm so glad that you asked me here tonight."

"Me, too," she said as she gave me a smile. "And thank you."

"So…" I said as I took a small step back from her.

I didn't want to lose our connection, but I also didn't need to keep her plastered against the wall. I glanced over my shoulder at our now-cold dinner still sitting on the table.

"Should we eat?" she asked.

I took hold of her hand and brought it to my lips for a lingering kiss.

Then, keeping her hand in mine, I turned toward the table.

"Let's eat."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Alex POV**

* * *

I was afraid that dinner was going to be awkward.

I mean seriously.

After the make-out session we'd just shared, how were we now supposed to just sit down at the table and pretend like nothing happened?

I'd had my hand only inches away from his…from _him_.

And just the thought of that made me reconsider our decreased pace.

Because not only had I nearly touched him with my hand, but I'd felt him pressed up against me. Felt the length of him, hard and insistent, pressing against me with desperate urgency.

And if I didn't start censoring my thoughts, there was no way we were going to make it through this dinner.

Because any second I was going to throw him down on this table and tear off his clothes.

"Do you want me to heat it up?" I heard him ask.

I could only guess that he meant the food because I wasn't going to get any hotter.

I was on fire, inside and out.

"No," I said as I sat down in the chair. "No, it's fine."

I wasn't hungry at all.

Not for food, anyway.

But after a few minutes, my heart rate slowed down and I was finally able to focus on his words.

And dinner turned out to not be awkward at all.

In fact, it was really nice.

We spent a couple of hours talking and eating.

We talked a little bit about work, but mostly about other things. Because regardless of its importance in our lives thus far, work wasn't everything.

And we both had lives outside of the office.

We finished off the bottle of wine, but I was nowhere near ready for the night to end, so I suggested a movie.

I settled onto the couch and waited while he looked over the options.

I let our earlier conversation roll through my mind.

He'd called me beautiful.

And I wasn't normally one to swoon at compliments.

Especially one like that.

Because despite my teenage title, I know that I'm no beauty queen. I have no problem with the way that I look, but I am realistic.

I'm cute at best.

But those words, coming from his lips, while he'd stared at me intently with those dark brown eyes…it had very nearly made me weak in the knees.

Honestly, I was still having trouble believing that we were here.

I'd always imagined that we'd have to traverse a multitude of astronomical hurdles to get _here_.

But in hindsight, it hadn't been so bad. A few brief misfires, but overall, it had taken a remarkably short amount of time for us both to be on the same page.

And maybe I should've predicted that considering that we were usually on the same page with everything else.

So I guess that I was right.

Maybe it had just been about waiting for the right time, and this was it.

"Is this okay?" he asked as he held up his selection.

I bit back a smile and nodded at his predictable choice. In fact, I'd bought that movie with him in mind.

And honestly, I didn't care if he wanted to watch twenty-four hours of c-span. I just wanted to spend more time with him.

He put in the DVD and then came to sit next to me on the couch.

I'm not usually a touchy-feely kind of person, but I wanted to touch him.

Maybe it's because I've gone for so long denying myself the pleasure, but whatever the reason, I just flat-out wanted to have my hands on him.

So when he sat down next to me, I scooted closer. He quickly put his arm around me, and I rested my head on his shoulder and my hand on his thigh.

I felt his muscle tighten reflexively beneath my hand, but after a moment he relaxed.

And so did I.

Surprisingly, it didn't feel strange at all.

Considering that we worked together, closely together, I'd worried before that it would be difficult to feel comfortable taking this step. And not even so much the sex, but the intimacy of spending down time together. I'd wondered if it would feel bizarre or awkward.

But it didn't.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt like this was where we were supposed to be all along.

We sat in relative silence while the movie played out on the screen in front of us.

His fingers were never still. At first he stroked up and down my arm, and then he moved on to my hair.

I let my eyes fall closed as the tingling sensations he was creating with his gentle touch lulled me into a near sleep-like state.

This was as good as sex.

Better even.

Because this was about companionship and compatibility and the pleasure of just being near each other.

And it was about love, too.

He wasn't ready to hear it, and honestly, I wasn't ready to say it, but I hoped that I would be soon.

Because I really did love him, and I didn't want to keep from telling him just to protect myself from the potential danger of being hurt. Besides, it would be good for him to know the truth, to know that he was worthy of love.

I snuggled closer against him, shifting my head from his shoulder down to his chest.

"Are you tired?" he asked me quietly. "We can finish this another time."

"No, I'm fine," I told him.

"Lay down," he suggested as he patted his leg.

Yes, most definitely better than sex.

I brought my feet up onto the couch and settled my head on his lap. I moved my arm under my head, somewhat wedging my hand between his thighs.

Again, I felt him tense slightly, but then he put one hand back in my hair and gently massaged my scalp while the other hand skimmed over my back.

I was in heaven.

And apparently I was really tired, because one minute I was practically purring and the next I felt the coolness of my sheets beneath me.

I opened my eyes and found Bobby standing over me. He'd presumably just carried me to bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said as he pulled the covers up over my shoulders. "Go back to sleep."

I was still dressed, but I didn't care. I wasn't twenty-two anymore, and last night had kicked my ass.

But that didn't mean I wanted him to go.

"Stay," I mumbled as my eyes fell shut.

"I'd better not," he whispered, and I felt his breath on my cheek as he said the words, and then the press of his lips against mine. "I'll call you tomorrow."

The tenderness of his gesture somehow rejuvenated me. I _really_ wasn't ready for him to leave. And maybe I wasn't so sleepy after all.

I reached from under the covers and grabbed his hand.

"That was not a good night kiss," I told him challengingly.

"I'm trying to be good here, Alex, but you're not making it easy on me," he replied with a shy smile.

"So don't be good. Be bad."

I gave his hand a little tug and he sat down on the edge of my bed.

I brought my other hand up to his cheek and rubbed against the fresh stubble. As much as I'd liked his earlier smoothness, I liked the roughness, too.

He put his hand on the collar of my blouse, and for some reason that innocent move sent a shot of arousal through me that had me struggling to remain still.

Maybe it was because I had an idea of what he was going to do.

Or at least, what I _hoped_ that he'd do.

He trailed his fingers down slowly to where the blanket rested against my chest, and then he grabbed a hold of the covers and pulled them down past my waist.

His eyes tracked his movements while mine watched his face.

He licked his lips before bringing his hand back up and settling his fingers on my collarbone, this time just inside the material.

"I really like this blouse," he told me in a rough voice.

Then he took one finger and traced it down until it came to a stop at the highest closed button, which was directly between my breasts.

I literally held my breath as I waited to see what he would do next.

Because despite my assertion that the togetherness was better than sex, I still wanted to _experience the sex_.

I wanted to feel his back, slicked with sweat, and his muscles tensed beneath my hands.

I mean seriously. I was close to the breaking point already and yet I was fully clothed and he was only touching me with one finger.

Just imagine what he could do without so many obstacles.

The silence in the room was such that I was sure he could hear my heart pounding. And as close as his finger was to it, he could probably feel it as well.

And then he slid his whole hand under the material, just above the edge of my bra, so that he truly was resting his hand over my heart.

He kept it there as he leaned over and kissed me, slowly and sensuously, with his fingers moving slightly against my sensitive skin.

I was grateful that I was lying in the bed because I know that my legs wouldn't have held me up at this point.

The heat of his hand would likely leave an imprint on my chest, but that was okay. I would be forever marked as his.

With the way that he was kissing me, he'd ruined me for anyone else anyway.

Never had a man made me feel like this.

_And we were just getting started_.

I shifted under the covers.

I was restless with need as his grazing touch was fueling my fire.

Then he moved his hand downwards, just slightly, quickly…a gentle caress before he withdrew it altogether.

Before I could mourn the loss of his touch, he trailed that same hand down the buttons of my blouse until he reached the waistband of my jeans. He didn't undo them, but rather ran his finger along the top edge, just beneath the hem of my blouse.

I had to consciously refrain from moaning as his hand burned a trail across my stomach.

His lips moved down my throat to my collarbone, the same point that he'd touched only moments ago.

And as he started working his mouth downward, I realized that he was tracking the same path as his finger.

The man was going to push me over the edge without taking off any clothes at all.

I gave up on trying to stay quiet. It was a wasted effort anyway, and my sounds seemed to spur him on.

He moved his hands from my stomach as his lips made contact with that lowest exposed point, that spot right between my breasts.

Then his eyes came up to meet mine as his hands worked tantalizingly slowly to undo the button.

And then the next one.

And the next one.

Until the two pieces of material were separate from one another, yet he made no move to push them apart.

He leaned over me again and ran his tongue along my bottom lip before sealing his mouth to mine.

My skin was tingling, itching to be exposed and to feel his touch, but instead he put one hand on either side of my head and focused all of his attention on the kiss.

Then he pulled back and held my gaze for a long minute before saying, "Good night, Alex."

His subsequent cocky grin was his only saving grace because I realized then that he was only teasing.

"You are _not_ leaving now."

"You want me to stay?" he asked, and I loved his confidence.

Because even though he'd phrased it as a question, I could tell that he knew damn well I wanted him to stay.

More than that, I would've probably shot him if he tried to leave.

But considering that this confidence was fairly new, at least in this arena, I wasn't about to ruin the moment.

I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, but kept my eyes on his as I said decisively, "I really, _really_ want you to stay."

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

**Bobby POV**

* * *

I hadn't planned on making love to Alex tonight.

I mean, initially the thought crossed my mind as some kind of elusive, far-off possibility, but mostly I'd just been hoping for a third kiss.

I'd definitely gotten that. And then some.

So as much as I wanted to make love to her, I was okay with the idea that we would wait.

And by the time we'd worked through the bumps of miscommunication and finally settled down for a pleasant dinner, I was only thinking about spending time with her.

Everything else would follow along at its own pace.

I was glad that she'd suggested the movie once dinner was over because I was nowhere near ready to leave.

And then she'd sat close, so close that I could smell the subtle fragrance that she must have put on when she'd changed clothes.

Because my nose is good.

I hadn't smelled it when she arrived home, but I definitely did when I had her up against the kitchen wall.

That thought brought back the sensory memory of the feel of her body pressed against mine. A zip of arousal coursed through me and I worked hard to focus on the movie in order to stave off the effects.

"Are you tired?" I asked her when she moved her head from my shoulder to my chest. "We can finish this another time."

"No. I'm fine."

"Lay down," I offered as I patted my legs.

I was a little nervous about suggesting that she put her head so close to a certain sensitive area, but I wanted her to be comfortable.

She had to be exhausted and yet she didn't want me to leave. That thought very nearly choked me up.

She actually enjoyed spending time with me.

I wondered idly what had made us wait so long to get here, but I wasn't going to question it.

We were here now.

She put her head down on my thighs and used her forearm as a pillow, causing her hand to settle between my legs, mere inches from the very area that was my cause for concern.

I couldn't help it. I was instantly hard.

I shifted slightly to alleviate some of the pressure against my jeans, and then I concentrated on making her relax, making her feel good. And in the process, I was able to relax myself.

An hour later, when she didn't respond to my second question in as many minutes, I realized that she was fast asleep.

But I didn't move.

I continued to sit in the quiet room, stroking her hair and rubbing her back.

This was quite possibly the best moment of my life.

I enjoyed it for awhile longer, until the movie credits began to roll, and then I decided that I should move her into the bed.

I shifted her, pulling her more fully onto my lap, and then I hesitated while I checked to make sure that she was still asleep.

She was.

Her hair had fallen across her face, so I gently eased it back behind her ear.

Her blouse had shifted slightly too, offering me an alluring glimpse of her light blue bra. But I forced my eyes away.

I wasn't going to look while she was sleeping. If she wanted to show me, she'd show me.

I held her close to me and scooted to the edge of the couch so that I could get my legs under me. Then I picked her up.

She was surprisingly light, and I only say surprising because to me she's always this enormous presence.

But she was small.

And warm and soft and as I carried her, she curled into me and let out a contented sigh that went straight to my groin.

My sense of longing was almost overwhelming.

With every fiber of my being, I wanted to crawl into bed with her and hold her in my arms.

But that wasn't in the cards tonight, and that was okay.

Now that I'd seen a hint of what my life could be like, I could be patient.

Her bed was unmade, as it had been when I'd peeked into her room this morning, so I gently set her down on the sheets.

Her eyes opened slowly and settled on me.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Stay," she said, but her eyes closed again, and she was clearly still in a state of half-sleep.

I leaned over her and breathed in her scent again before whispering, "I'd better not."

I couldn't resist kissing her. I decided that it would be okay since she'd willingly kissed me earlier, so I put my lips to hers before reluctantly withdrawing.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I promised, although I desperately hoped that I'd get to do more than that. Only hearing her voice wouldn't be nearly enough, not after tonight.

I stood up fully, and despite my disinclination, I had every intention of leaving.

But then I felt her hand on mine.

"That was not a good night kiss."

And with that simple statement, the room was suddenly charged.

The sight of her, slightly disheveled and under the covers, the sound of her husky voice, the challenge behind her statement…I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold out.

"I'm trying to be good here, Alex, but you're not making it easy on me."

And I swear, I will remember what she said next until my dying day.

She looked up at me with heavy-lidded eyes and said, "So don't be good. Be bad."

All resolve left me as every drop of blood in my body rushed southward.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes as she ran her fingers along my cheek.

But I couldn't just sit. I needed to touch her.

My hand felt heavy as I lifted it from the bed and settled it against her blouse, just along the edge of the collar.

But she had too many covers on, so I pushed the blankets out of the way, and then, after praising her blouse, the one that I knew I'd never look at the same way again, I replaced my hand.

Only this time, I slid it beneath the fabric.

Her skin was warm, but I felt her shiver at the contact. I held my hand still for a moment, but my eyes were drawn to that button.

That last one that she'd seen fit to do.

That one that had been taunting me all night.

Using only one finger, I felt my way down to that button and then moved my hand over her heart.

It was thundering in her chest, just like mine.

I liked that. I liked that she wanted this just as much as I did.

And if her relentless shifting and subtle sighs were any indication, she was damn close to finding release already.

That was my new mission.

I wanted to find out what Alex looked like when she reached that pinnacle.

Of course, I underestimated what that would do to _me_.

Because as close as she was to coming undone, I was potentially only seconds behind her and that was unacceptable.

I had to get a handle on myself.

Of course, she chose that moment to let out a long, low moan causing my jeans to tighten exponentially.

I needed to turn the tables, and take control of this encounter or it was going to be over embarrassingly quickly.

I kissed her just above that button before I began slowly undoing it. Then I kept going until they were all undone.

It was torture not to just sweep the material away so that I could finally look at her fully, but I held off.

A little torture for me right now was a good thing.

So instead, I leaned over her and saw that she was biting her lip. She released it as I got closer, and I couldn't resist running my tongue over it soothingly before settling in to kiss her thoroughly.

I didn't want to stop.

I wanted to climb into bed with her and bring her right to the edge, over and over, until she screamed my name and begged for release.

But I needed for that to be her choice.

So I managed to break the kiss and for a long moment, I just stared into her eyes.

I didn't want to say the words.

What if I said good night and she let me go?

_Then I'd go home and take a cold shower, and enjoy her company again tomorrow_, the rational side of my brain said.

But I wasn't exactly thinking with my brain at the moment.

So it was really hard to do it, but I did.

"Good night, Alex," I said.

And the disappointment that immediately crossed her face caused me to break out in a grin.

I couldn't help it.

I was _really_ glad that she so obviously did not want me to go.

"You are _not_ leaving now."

"You want me to stay?" I asked, the question tumbling out of me despite the fact that she'd made herself pretty clear.

She turned it back on me though when she started unbuttoning my shirt.

"I really, _really_ want you to stay," she said, keeping her eyes locked onto mine.

Up to this point, it had been my hands on her.

I had no idea how long I'd be able to hold out once she started touching me.

But I was definitely willing to find out.

* * *

I woke to the sound of the shower running.

It took me a moment to realize where I was, and another moment to come to grips with the fact that last night hadn't been a dream.

This was real.

I was in Alex's bed.

And she was in the shower. Singing.

Not very well, but it was endearing nonetheless.

The sheets were tangled near the foot of the bed, but I left them there as I stretched contentedly. Then I put my hands behind my head and recounted the night's events in my mind.

It turned out that I _didn't_ last all that long once she'd started touching me.

But that hadn't been such a bad thing.

Once I'd gotten the immediate, pressing need out of the way, I'd been able to better focus on her.

And I'd rebounded fairly quickly.

Round two had been…incredible. And even that word wasn't really adequate.

Actually, just thinking about it had me damn near ready for round three.

In fact, as I heard her turn off the water and I began to picture what she looked like at this precise moment…her skin hot and damp, water droplets tracking down over her…yes, I was without a doubt ready for round three.

"You're awake," she said with a smile as she came into the bedroom.

I watched her eyes as they made a slow trip down my body before returning to make contact with mine.

She had the towel wrapped around her body, and I wondered how much effort it would take to pull it off of her.

"I didn't expect you to be such a morning person," I teased as I held out my hand to her.

She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. It was an exact role reversal of how we'd started things last night.

Although this time I was naked.

And she was…almost.

I reached out and touched the edge of her towel, just holding the thick material between my fingers.

"I'm usually not," she admitted. She trailed her fingers slowly across my chest. "Must be the company."

"Hmm…" I mused, as focused now on the towel as I'd been on the button last night.

It was an obstacle that needed to be hurdled.

I pulled on it a little more, loosening it slightly, and then continued to play with it as she leaned over to give me a kiss.

I couldn't resist running my other hand along her thigh, up underneath the edge of the towel.

Her skin was just as I'd imagined, hot to the touch and still slightly damp.

I couldn't stop myself.

I gave the towel a final tug so that it fell away from her body. She closed her eyes as I moved my hands over her now-bare skin.

"You know I have to go to work," she reminded me quietly.

Work.

Now there was a sobering thought.

I wondered if she'd still be interested in spending off-time with me once we were back to spending all day together.

"Bobby?"

I realized that my hands had stilled, and she was once again looking at me.

"Yeah, sorry," I said with a shake of my head. I sat up and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"You're thinking about what it's going to be like when you come back to work, aren't you?" she asked me.

"I…yeah, I guess. I mean, it'll be different, right?"

"Yes," she stated, and my heart sank.

Had she too just now realized that if we had a relationship in addition to our partnership we'd be basically spending twenty-four hours a day together?

Was it too much?

Of course it was too much.

Who wanted to spend all of their waking hours, and their sleeping hours as well, with _me_?

I relaxed my hold on her, and she slid her hands up onto my cheeks, running her thumbs across the now-heavy whiskers.

"It'll be different because you won't get to be lazy and stay in the bed while I get ready for work," she said pointedly.

"Oh," I replied hopefully.

"What did you think, that I hadn't thought this whole thing through? Do you think I didn't realize what it would mean for us once you got back to work?"

"No, I…it's just that…"

"Bobby," she said on a sigh. She kissed me hard, still holding my face in place with her hands. When she pulled back, she said, "Don't underestimate me."

"Never," I began.

"And," she interrupted. "Don't underestimate what you mean to me. Okay? I didn't go into this blindly. Did you?"

"No," I insisted quickly. "No, I didn't."

"Good."

To my disappointment, she got up from the bed and walked over to the dresser.

Of course, I knew that she had to get ready for work, and I was happy to know that things wouldn't crumble once my leave ended, but still…I wasn't quite done kissing her yet.

But instead of opening a drawer, she picked up her phone.

"Captain," she said confidently when her call was connected.

She walked back toward the bed and stood next to where I sat along the edge.

"Yes, it's Eames. Something has come up," she told him, and damn if she didn't trail her fingers over me as she said the words.

The woman was downright naughty.

"Yes, I need to take a day."

Eames was going to take the day off to spend it with me.

_Alex_ was taking the day.

My life just kept getting better.

"That's right. Okay, Captain. Yes, I'll see you on Monday."

She hung up and looked at me challengingly with one eyebrow raised.

"So, what are we going to do?" she asked me.

I quickly reached out and grabbed her in my arms, pulling her down onto the bed and then rolling her beneath me. She let out a laugh at my sudden exuberance, and I reveled in the sound.

"I've got a few ideas," I growled as I nuzzled my face into the crook of her neck.

She let out a deep contented sigh, and ran her hands down my back.

"Somehow I just knew that you would."

**The End**


End file.
